


time for just another moment

by NorthOfSomewhere



Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, F/M, Flash Fic, Magical Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29040114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthOfSomewhere/pseuds/NorthOfSomewhere
Summary: "Why should I trust you?" Nimue asks, sword at her side.It's the wrong question. She really wants to ask, why do I trust you?
Relationships: Nimue/The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	time for just another moment

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of connected to my other fic.

"Why should I trust you?" Nimue asks, sword at her side. It takes everything in her to not drop it, her arm shakes with the effort. It's the wrong question. She really wants to ask, _why do I trust you?_

"I don't have a good answer for you," the Weeping Monk says, "But they're almost here." He holds his hand out for her. When she hesitates, he says, "if we don't leave now, I'm not sure we'll have a chance."

Nimue can feel her own aches, she knows she's too injured to fight the Paladins. And he looks worse off.

One glancing blow might be all it takes for either of them.

She nods, but when she moves to follow, the sword starts to slip. Wordlessly, he hands her a small sharp knife, taking her sword in his other hand.

"It'll be easier this way," he says.

It is already, the knife isn't an anchor weighing her down. The handle is warm in her hand, her fingers sliding easily into the grooves worn into the wood. All at once there's a wave of gratitude. Strong enough to push her to step nearer to him, and the will to survive keeps her moving further.

"Okay," she says, voice clearer.

He nods. The motion is tight, and there's no reassurance to be gleaned from that look. He's shaking too.

They take off.   
  


* * *

It's almost immediately clear that they won't be able to make it on foot. Her movements are sluggish, like running in a dream.

"I could," Nimue says, drawing in a breath that hurts just as much leaving her lungs as it did going in. "I could try..."

"Magic?" he asks without looking back.

"Do you trust me?" she asks instead of answering, it feels odd to ask that of him. _The Weeping Monk._

Odder still that she doesn't know his name. He must have one. A legend and a horror story he may be, but in person it's obvious that he's just that. A person. He bleeds like anyone else, she can see the evidence of that with her own eyes. She sees the red dripping down his arms, darker than the cloaks that are hunting them down. And despite the stories, she feels an odd connection with him.

It's the dreams, she knows. She's seen him in her dreams. A steady presence for as long as she's been able to remember.

She's always asking the wrong questions.

It isn't why should she trust him, it isn't why _does_ she trust him.

The real question is one she's been avoiding.

One she's still avoiding.

"Yes, I trust you," he murmurs. He stops moving and that alone is proof of his trust. The look he gives her is familiar and seeing it, she wonders if he's had dreams of _her._

Smoke rises around them.

The Red Paladins are torching the woods. She knows this at once.

She can hear the sound of their horses in the distance.

It's a miracle, really, that they got as far as they did.

"What's your name?" she asks, because she doesn't know if she'll get a chance to find out later.

She doesn't know if there'll _be_ a later.

"Lancelot," he says. "My name is Lancelot."

There are tears in his eyes and she doesn't know if it's because of the smoke that fills the air or the almost certain death that awaits them.

"I like that name," she says, teeth chattering.

_Why am I cold if the world's burning down around us?_

On instinct, Nimue steps closer. She reaches up to wipe the tears that spill from his eyes, cupping his face as she does. Lancelot grips her sleeve between his fingers like it's a lifeline.

"Nimue," he says.

She waits for him to say something else, but the silence only stretches between them as the horses draw closer.

She understands the desperate look he gives her.

There isn't enough time to say the things they need to say.

Nimue nods and he relaxes ever so slightly.

"Born in the dawn," he says instead, quiet.

She feels the burn of a tear run down her cheek at the words. She sends a quick prayer for the safety of her friends.

Lancelot reaches, hesitant, to return the favor. He wipes away the tear quickly and before he can pull his hand away, she leans into the touch. He's warm, and she finds the strength to finish the saying.

"To pass in the twilight."

The Red Paladins aren't far.

Lancelot hands her the sword and he pulls out one of his own.

Their enemy thunders closer.

They draw their swords.

She calls on the Hidden.

_I know how much I've asked of you already, but please..._


End file.
